Potatoes, Tomatoes, and Other Staple Foods
by Savage Valentine
Summary: A place where I can put one-shots and drabbles of Hetalia. Update, Distress: RussLiet. What Russia doesn't realize is, he's the thing Lithuania fears. If they understood each other, they'd probably be happier.
1. Medic: Germany, Italy

Medic

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><p>Italy wandered sleepily through the dark hallway to the familiar door that was his destination. It didn't occur to him to be quiet or stealthy, but surprisingly the person residing in the room merely rolled over in response to the door opening and closing. Italy stumbled over and collapsed on the bed with a small 'Oof!'. He curled into the man's back and moaned.<p>

"Germany…" He whimpered. The other man grumbled in his sleep. "Germany. Germany. Germany."

"What is it?" Germany twisted over, glaring at Italy with one intimidating eye.

The brunette arched back, whimpered a little, then curled up again. "My stomach hurts."

Germany closed his eye and sighed. "You just ate too much. Go to sleep and you'll feel better." He pulled up the sheets around him and settled back into bed. He learned long ago it was pointless to try to kick the boy out of bed, so didn't fight the squirming body settling next to his.

"Germany…"

"I said go to sleep."

Italy closed his eyes. He couldn't stop thinking about how badly his stomach hurt so he tried to focus on Germany's breathing instead. It was already soft and steady. Germany never snored or anything unpleasant like that and Italy liked that. He continued to think about the things he liked while trying to match his breathing with Germany's. He thought about painting, and maybe Germany would let him come over a paint a picture of his house because Italy thought his house looked so cozy, and he thought about the pretty girls he saw when he went out earlier that day, and about the German restaurant that Germany took him to for lunch, and the delicious food he had ordered…

Italy's stomach twisted and gurgled.

"Germany…" Italy whimpered. "Germany. Germany. Germany."

"What is it?" A tired voice responded.

"It's not working. My stomach hurts."

Germany growled and sat up, rubbing his eyes. "I told you, you ate too much." He reached over the boy and fumbled in the darkness for the lamp switch. When the light lit the bedside, he took note about how Italy looked. The first thing he noticed was that the boy had his eyes open, a bad sign. Sweaty bangs clung to his flushed face, and the commonplace smile Germany took for granted was nonexistent.

"Uh, ok. I'll go get you some ginger ale. You stay here." He climbed out of bed and gave Italy one last, long look before going to the kitchen. In addition to the ginger ale, he stopped in the living room and skimmed his bookshelf for a medical book to assist him. He found it, and returned to the bedroom.

"Thank you so so so much! This will make me feel much better." Italy took the ginger ale and drank it.

"If you guzzle it like that, you'll feel worse, idiot. Sip it slowly." Germany advised as he opened the book he held to the table of contents. Italy brought the can down, glancing at the blond man thoughtfully, and began to sip the drink slowly.

Germany turned to the chapter on stomach aches.

"_A stomach ache is one of the more annoying things in life," _Germany peered over the pages at the patient. He continued. "_Especially when you have things to do. Here are some things you can do so to get rid of them, while being productive and saving time_." Two of Germany's favorite things. He nodded in approval and went down the list.

"_Step 1: Do not eat anything because that may be the cause of the problem._" This was repetition. In fact, Germany was surprised this never happened before. Or maybe it wasn't the first time, and the idea that this time was bad enough for Italy to seek out help made him more worried. "_Step 2: Stretch slowly, breathing in and out at a steady pace. Facing a wall and belching may also help._"

"Okay, Italy, I want you to turn over on your side and face the wall."

Italy complied easily, slipping down and rolling onto his side. However, he also kept holding his ginger ale while doing so. "Don't spill it on my bed!"

"But how can I drink it, then?"

"Very well. I will go get you a straw. Just keep facing the wall." Germany put the book down and went back to the kitchen. On the way his eye caught the time on the cuckoo clock. The face read 1:13. There was no way he'd be able to get up early enough now for training without enough sleep. Mein Gott, that Italy annoys the heck out of me sometimes, Germany thought. But he is my only friend and I cannot turn him away without being lonely again, he thought immediately after, and he felt horrible. Then again, if I sent him away, I could finally get some work done and sleep through the night without being bothered so much, and that would be good…

"Bleargh!"

"I didn't mean it!" Germany grabbed a straw and raced back to the bedroom, where Italy was on his knees over a puddle of vomit. On the bed.

Italy felt his whole body cramping when a strong hand pressed against the small of his back. Slowly and awkwardly the hand rubbed his back and shooed the cramps away. He looked over his shoulder to Germany, whose stoic face Italy never felt he could read very well. But knowing the man like he did, he was sure Germany was mad.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to; I couldn't help it. I'm sorry. I'm-"

"It's okay." Germany's voice was deep, warm, comforting. "Next time, try to make it to the bathroom or a trashcan."

Without another word Germany scooped Italy up as if he weighed nothing. He carried him down the hall to his own bedroom and placed him on his own bed. Italy couldn't help but admire how Germany's muscles stood out in the moonlight that poured through the window. Germany apparently didn't notice the brunette staring as he quickly covered Italy with the warm comforter. Then he crossed the room, picked up a small wastebasket, and placed it next to the bed. "If you need to vomit again, vomit in here. I'll be right back." The light flicked on and Italy saw Germany's back disappear from the doorway.

Germany quickly gathered up the sheets and placed them in the wash. Then he retrieved the ginger ale, the straw, and the medical book. He skimmed through the next several steps.

"_Step 3: Visit the toilet._" It was obviously too late for that. "_Step 4: Raise your feet to a higher level than the rest of your body. Prop them up on some pillows._"

Germany put the straw in the soda can and handed it back to Italy, who sipped it happily. He retrieved two pillows from the linen closet. "How are you feeling?"

"A little better. Are you staying in my bed tonight, Germany?" Italy asked, eying the pillows curiously.

"Nein." He said quickly. "Ahem. The book says to put your feet up, so lay down." Italy did as he was bid. Germany picked up his feet and slid the pillows under them. Italy felt very comfortable.

"Ah, that feels so good. You're really good at this." Italy said, smiling a little and closing his eyes. Germany sat at the edge of the bed. Italy's color looked better. He brushed his forehead with the back of his hand, but there was no fever to worry about.

Crossing his arms, Germany felt relieved and serious once again. "Now, what have you eaten in the last few hours?"

"Um," Italy looked up at the ceiling. "Some pasta, some pizza, some potato pancakes…" His stomach knotted up at the thought of food and he stopped.

"I said the in the last few hours. We had German food for lunch."

"I know, but I thought those potato pancakes were so tasty that when you went over to Prussia's house that I looked up a recipe and made some at home to go with dinner. I put lots of jam and applesauce on them. Ugh…" Germany reached for the wastebasket, but Italy swallowed and seemed fine. "I made sure I cleaned up the kitchen like you like so there wasn't any mess."

For a second, a smile twitched at the corner of Germany's lips. He reached out and brushed Italy's bangs back. "So you did eat too much. I thought so." Germany sighed. "How many did you eat?"

"I don't know."

"Then go to sleep. You'll feel better. And promise me you'll never eat too many potato pancakes again."

"Okay, I promise. Buona notte, Germany."

"Gute nacht, Italy."

.

Italy stretched and yawned. The morning sun warmed his face. He sat up and greeted the day.

"Buon giorno, world! Ah! I had a great sleep. Huh?" Italy noticed the end of his bed was warm and dipped a little. Germany slept perpendicular to the bed with his arms crossed and his legs hanging over the side. Italy smiled. "Ha ha! I woke up before Germany again! Silly Germany, that's not how you sleep in a bed. No wonder he's always so grumpy." He hopped out of bed and rushed to call Japan to deliver the news.

* * *

><p>AN: So, three days ago I got APH off of Netflix, and at first I was like 'WTF' and then I saw Germany for the first time and then I was like '*heart*' and then I saw Germany pick up Italy out of the tomato crate and then I was like '*HEART bedump bedump*'. It's my first Hetalia fic so I haven't quite gotten the characterization yet. Anyway, anytime I come up with a one-shot or drabble or whatever I'll just post it here. Hope you enjoyed it.


	2. Dusk: Ludwig, Feliciano

Dusk

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><p><em>Once upon a time there was a great warrior name Rome, who became famous throughout the land as a hero of the people. He was so strong he became known as the Beast Slayer. Creatures of evil all over the Mediterranean feared him above all else. But one day, he disappeared. He left behind two heirs to his legend, two grandsons…<em>

.

Feliciano was a handsome and chipper young lad, sporting bright auburn hair with a darling curl, wide, innocent amber eyes that he always kept closed, and always had a huge smile on his face. He was a great artist and gourmet with great taste, but he was also shy and unpopular at his old school, being a frequent target for bullying. When he first moved in with Roderich Edelstein, the idea of starting a new school terrified him.

But Monday came, and he picked up his schedule from the front office. His first class was history.

"Uh, excuse me, where is this room?"

A blond boy in a blue cape peered over Feliciano's shoulder. "Oh, I have that class next. I can show you exactly where it is." He smiled at Feliciano. "You must be the new student."

"Yes, I'm Feliciano Vargas. I just moved here." Feliciano smiled nervously.

"I'm Francis Bonnefoy. I can introduce you all around, so stick with me."

"Ve, thank you so much. You're so nice."

In history class, Francis introduced Feliciano to his friends Arthur Kirkland and Alfred _F._ Jones. And Matthew Williams, who Feliciano almost didn't notice.

"Oh! I got a great idea!" Francis suddenly appeared in front of Alfred. He hoisted Feliciano up. "Come sit with me at lunch today. Nobody will pick on you if you hang out with me."

So Feliciano, being kind of a wimp, sat with Francis at lunch. As it turned out, Francis was a bit of a gourmet like he was, but Feliciano politely refused the strange cuisine of bugs and frogs' legs. He shrank away and ate his pasta, which was very good.

And then he spotted a boy crossing the far side of the cafeteria, and the hair on the back of his neck stood up. The boy was tall and muscular with slicked back blond hair; he wore a green jacket over his shoulders with a dark shirt underneath, green pants, and very shiny boots. He walked straight with purpose and headed directly to an empty table. A shorter solemn-faced boy with short black hair followed him.

"Who is that?" Feliciano asked. Francis glanced over his shoulder.

"Don't mind them. That's just Ludwig and Kiku. They're weird. No one likes them. Kiku's a shut-in and Ludwig's an asshole."

"I don't know," Alfred stuffed a burger in his mouth. "Kiku's cool. He lends me some awesome videogames."

Feliciano felt his stomach become bubbly and decided to eat more pasta.

.

Feliciano looked forward to art class all day. Art was his absolute favorite subject, ever since his Grandpa Rome taught him to paint. Francis was not in this class, so Feliciano wasn't sure where to sit amid all the strange faces. Then he saw one he recognized from the lunchroom. It was Ludwig, who stared aimlessly down at his pencil. Feliciano skipped over and plopped down in the seat next to him. Ludwig jerked, and Feliciano saw that he had very beautiful blue eyes.

"Ciao, I'm Feliciano. It is nice to meet you."

Ludwig stared dumbly for a few seconds before snapping his mouth shut and turning away while wrinkling his nose. Feliciano didn't get it. Did he do something wrong? Did he smell weird? He sniffed his clothes but they only smelled like the garlic pasta he ate for lunch. He thought it was a good smell.

The teacher entered the room and rattled off the day's lesson. Today they would be working with oil paints. Feliciano had already painted many pictures with oil paints before, so instead of listening he thought about what he would paint this time. He decided he'd paint the picture of the girl who had sat next to Alfred in geometry class. She was very pretty and had a _huge_ chest, and was pretty nice to him when she let him borrow her textbook. _What was her name? Natalia._

They took their charcoal, paint, and brushes and set to work. In a rare moment of tactfulness, Feliciano decided it wouldn't be a good idea to start painting portraits of pretty girls on his first day at a new school, so instead he looked around for a new model and Ludwig was sitting next to him, though facing the other way and leaning away from him, hunched over his canvas. His pale, chiseled face reminded Feliciano of the paintings of heroes his Grandpa Rome painted a long time ago. Feliciano's eyes followed the curve of his body, his long, sturdy-looking neck, his broad shoulders, down the green sleeve of his jacket to his slender hand which rubbed the charcoal over the canvas. He moved his piece of charcoal slowly with deliberate movements. It was obvious to Feliciano that Ludwig was trying too hard.

"Hey you shouldn't be so forceful about it. Just let your hand flow over the page and your painting will be perfect!" Feliciano offered.

Ludwig's glare stabbed him. "I don't need help." He said. "I just need to get this leg right."

Feliciano peeked at Ludwig's canvas. On it was the vague outline of a rabbit. It wasn't so bad, actually, and he immediately recognized what Ludwig was doing wrong. He reached out. "Here, I can help, let me-"

"I said I don't need your help!" Ludwig grabbed Feliciano's wrist and pushed it away. In those brief seconds of contact, Feliciano's heart fluttered. Blue eyes flashed and narrowed at Feliciano's canvas. "How are you already almost done!" He gasped. Feliciano looked down and noticed that he had already started applying paints to the canvas just before reaching out for Ludwig's charcoal. "Is- Is that me?"

Feliciano felt his cheeks heat up. "Yup. I was going to draw a girl from my geometry class but then I decided it wasn't a good idea because she was kind of scary and her brother is kind of scary too. Ve~. I didn't want to get beaten up my first day so I painted you instead, Ludwig."

Ludwig blinked. "How do you know my name?"

"I saw you in the cafeteria today and Francis told me who you were."

"Francis told you." Ludwig's voice dropped. A serious look crossed his face, and then vanished. He calmly lifted his charcoal again and went back to work.

.

P.E. was the last class of the day. Feliciano was terrified of P.E. class. He knew that he'd become the target for the other boys; he was no good at sports except for football. Besides that only exception, whenever a ball came his way he'd cower and run away from it.

He recognized some of the students. Francis, Arthur, Ludwig, and Kiku loitered on the bleachers before class. Francis gestured at Feliciano to sit in an empty spot next to him. On the way Feliciano passed Ludwig and Kiku sitting together. Their mouths moved slightly as they talked quietly to each other. Kiku watched Feliciano pass them. Ludwig looked, too, but when Feliciano appeared to notice him he spun around quickly. He wasn't sure, but he thought the boy might have been blushing. But what would he be blushing about? Feliciano wondered.

When Feliciano sat down, Francis was on him in no time flat. "What was that, hm? I don't think I've seen Ludwig like that before." His mouth strained into a pointed frown. "Did you talk to him or something?"

"I just offered to help him when we had art class after lunch." Feliciano bit his lip when he thought back to the class.

"I told you he was an asshole. You should forget about him." Francis cast his eyes over Feliciano to Ludwig. As if sensing his stare, Ludwig turned and stared back. Some unspoken war waged between them that was only stopped when the coach blew his whistle for class to start.

"Today we're playing volleyball." He held up a volleyball for all to see. The class groaned in unison. "Now count off to four." He pointed at students, who counted off numbers one through four to divide themselves into teams. In a minute he came to the three of them.

"One."

"Deux."

"Tre."

So Feliciano wouldn't be on the same team as either Francis or Arthur. This almost made him sad until he heard a deep voice say, "Drei". He couldn't believe his luck that Ludwig would be on his team, even when he saw him heading towards their team. When he got close, Ludwig suddenly grimaced and turned his head away, similar to how he did in art class. He curiously kept his distance as they set up the nets in the gym. When they took positions to start the games, he took the farthest position as possible from Feliciano. In the beginning, it was team one versus team two and team three versus team four. The coach flipped a coin to see which two teams would get the ball first. Teams two and three won the tosses. The coach handed a ball each to Ludwig and Francis.

Ludwig was a skilled athlete. The ball sailed over the net like it was being carried. Kiku stepped out and bounced the ball back. Since it never came his way, Feliciano stood back and watched the game proceed just fine without his intervention. However, things only went this way for about a minute because when Ludwig scored the first point the coach called for the players to rotate their positions. The student taking over Ludwig's position up front pushed him to move diagonally to the back, next to Feliciano. He looked like he was going to be physically sick, while Feliciano became hyperaware of how loudly his heart was pounding in his chest. The gym felt as though the temperature shot up ten degrees.

Apparently Ludwig was the only good player on the team, because as soon as he was restricted to the back of the court, team four scored four points in a row. The game only played to five points.

"Maybe we should give up." Feliciano moved to his new position.

"What do you mean give up?" Ludwig's eyes widened. "We can't give up just because they have three points on us. I'm up front now. We'll win." The aura of confidence radiated from the blond boy, who stepped forward to hit the ball back to the other side. Feliciano's heart skipped a beat and he decided that Ludwig meant it. He brought together his arms and stood ready for any time the ball came at him. However, he needn't have worried. Whenever the ball came anywhere close to them, Ludwig rushed towards it and hit it before Feliciano had to do anything. Ludwig was so fast he sometimes would look like a blur before Feliciano's eyes, yet he wasn't even breathing hard. Feliciano felt a pang of jealousy among all the other things he felt when he looked at the blond.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the gym, team two defeated team one with a score of five to three. Francis spun the volleyball on a finger and grinned cheekily at Ludwig. Francis was ignored; Ludwig kept his eyes straight ahead at team four and the volleyball. He looked like nothing could distract him, but Francis was not to be outdone.

"Hey, Ludwig, I heard you don't like art class." Feliciano's face turned red. Why was Francis bringing _that_ up? Feliciano suddenly felt like he had betrayed Ludwig in some way, and the feeling brought on a wave of guilt. He dropped his arms and frowned at Francis.

Ludwig, however, focused on the game. Francis tried again. "What is it you don't like about it? I think it'd be a rather _stimulating_ subject. What? Nothing? I guess it would be _hard_ being a model for-"

"Will you just shut the hell up!" Ludwig tore himself away from his focus and finally gave Francis the attention he'd been looking for.

Feliciano didn't have time to register Ludwig's reaction, or wonder how Francis had known about Ludwig being a model. At the same second Ludwig finally lost his head, the volleyball was sailing over the net and hit Feliciano in the face.

"I surrender! I give up! You win!" He sank to his knees and covered his head. The volleyball bumped into Ludwig's foot. He stared at it, then his eyes traced an invisible line to the cowering Feliciano. Sighing, he reached out and tugged at Feliciano's shirt.

"Are you ok?" His voice was unusually low.

"Huh? I guess so." Feliciano looked up. Ludwig took one look at his face and jumped back. "What is it?"

"Urgh. You're- ah- bleeding!" Ludwig's face became pointed and flushed. His whole body twitched.

Feliciano brought a hand up to his face. A steady trickle of blood dripped down his face onto his shirt. The coach came over to look at him and gave him a few tissues to wipe up the blood. He had only just gotten hit, but the blood seemed to have already gotten everywhere. From the corner of his eye Feliciano saw Francis stifling laughter by biting his lip. Ludwig shot him a dirty look.

"Hold your head back like this. Go sit against the wall until the bleeding stops." Feliciano went to where the coach pointed and sat down. Since he held his head up, he didn't see much besides the ceiling. He heard the shuffling of steps and dribbling that meant the teams were switching places. The ceiling was an uninteresting sight. The fans wobbled as they spun, and an old red ball was stuck fast between two beams.

The coach came to check on Feliciano a few minutes later. Slowly releasing the pressure on his nose, Feliciano pulled the tissues away. He hadn't seen so much red in his life. "Looks like you're still bleeding. You better see the nurse. Do you know where it is?" Feliciano shook his head and felt dizzy. The coach stood up. "Ludwig!"

Feliciano's heart stopped. "What is it, coach?"

"Show Feliciano where the nurse's office is."

"What? N-No! I mean, I can't."

"You're heading that way and I don't want to have three students gone from the teams. Come on, stand up." Coach addressed Feliciano, who wondered what he had meant by Ludwig was heading that way. When he saw Ludwig, though, he understood. Ludwig, for some reason, was wearing his regular clothes and carrying his backpack. "It's almost the end of the day, so just get your things and go."

It wasn't easy gathering his things with one hand. If he let go of the tissues, blood would drip onto his shirt and the floor. He fumbled around trying to open his locker and stuff his clothes into his backpack. Somehow he never managed to get past the unzipping step.

"Everything okay?" Ludwig called from around the lockers. He had stayed in the doorway between the gym and the boys' locker room.

"Yeah, just trying to put my clothes away." Ludwig hesitantly poked his head into the locker room.

"Don't tell me you're having trouble with a zipper."

"It's hard to do it with one hand! I'll hurry-" Feliciano quickly brought his second hand down to work the zipper. In a flash Ludwig was across the room. Feliciano let out a soft gasp as his backpack was snatched away.

"I got it." His hands shook. "Go wash your face." He was taking deep breaths through his mouth.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Just hurry up." His authoritative voice got Feliciano moving fast to the sinks. The cool water felt amazing on his face. Even as he watched pink swirl down the drain he felt much better, although he was still bleeding. He tried to clean some of the blood from his shirt as well, but he couldn't manage to make any improvement. He threw away the used tissues and grabbed a couple of clean paper towels and went back to his locker. Ludwig was leaning against it with both their backpacks at his feet. He glanced over at Feliciano. "Are you done?"

"Yes."

"You shouldn't carry heavy things when you have a nosebleed, so I'll carry your backpack for you as far as the nurse's office, okay?" As he spoke he slung his own pack over his back and picked up Feliciano's by the strap.

"Ve~! Thank you so much! All my books are so heavy."

"Just hurry up already."

"Yes sir!" Feliciano saluted smartly.

Ludwig walked swiftly, always keeping himself a few steps ahead of Feliciano. Whenever the smaller boy quickened his pace, so did Ludwig, to the point where he was practically chasing him down the hall. The hair on the back of Feliciano's neck stood up again, and his heart thudded in his ears. Running down the hall was more exhilarating than he expected, or maybe it was who he was running with. Or maybe it was that his head was becoming light, and he could feel the sticky dampness soaking through the paper towels. Light-headed now, he didn't pay attention to where he was going but kept his eyes on the back of Ludwig's yellow head.

"Why are you running?" Ludwig looked back over his shoulder.

"Why are you?" Feliciano replied. Ludwig didn't respond but stumbled to a stop. He put out his arm to catch Feliciano, but then Feliciano realized it was to keep him at arms' distance. They breathed hard. Ludwig held out his bag, which he took back. "Grazie. You're very nice."

He meant it in all sincerity. Ludwig's brows knit together as he stared. "You think I'm nice? You're not very bright."

Feliciano chuckled. "Francis told me that you were an asshole."

"That sounds like him." He rolled his eyes. "But he's not necessarily wrong."

"You might be nicer if you didn't skip lunch."

Ludwig's eyes went wide. "That's none of your business. What do you care anyway? You're not my friend. Whether I eat or not- What I do isn't any of your business, so just leave me alone."

Feliciano's heart dropped in his chest. "I didn't mean anything by it. I'm sorry! You act kind of weird, but you don't act like a bad person." At this, Ludwig's face contorted into a look of sheer disbelief. "I just thought maybe I could sit with you during lunch tomorrow."

"Geh zur Hölle!" Feliciano didn't understand that particular German phrase, but got the idea of what it was trying to convey. Ludwig covered his mouth and glanced around, apparently surprised by his own volume. "Nein. Don't you dare come near my lunch table tomorrow. If you do, I'll get up and leave. Gott, why have I stayed here so long?" He took two steps back. "I mean it. Don't come near me. Don't try to help me in art class. Don't be a wimp in P.E. Don't misinterpret my every attempt to get away from you as me secretly being a great guy and wanting to hang out with you or whatever. Stay. Away." If looks could kill, Feliciano would have been dead a hundred times over the way Ludwig glared at him. He couldn't even stand it; he had to turn his face down less than halfway through the speech. Ludwig's trembling knuckles stood out white against the strap of his backpack. Without another word he turned and left Feliciano right outside of the nurse's office.

.

Feliciano settled into his new school life. He avoided Ludwig, or Ludwig avoided him, but there was always something to do. Francis was the school gossip; everyday he would come up with some juicy new piece of information to spread. While he was kind of a jerk, it was thanks to Francis' efforts that Feliciano soon knew his way around the school and the people in it. Alfred and Arthur often competed in friendly rivalry, though Arthur always acted as if he wouldn't fall for Alfred's energetic antics. While the niche where Feliciano would eventually fit in wasn't immediately obvious, school was fun.

At least, that was the way it went most of the time. Then Feliciano's eyes would wander; the hairs on the back of his neck would rise as his eyes fell on the stone-faced Ludwig, sitting back in his chair at the lunch table, or methodically applying paint in art class, or running across the gym floor. The fluttering in his heart was hard to ignore. He'd get breathless sometimes. He'd blush. But he would always remember Ludwig's hard, emotionless words: _Stay away_. Feliciano didn't know why it was so hard to follow this advice, but it was. More than anything he wanted to talk with Ludwig and be close to him. If he could figure out what he had done to antagonize him, perhaps he could fix it. Then they could be friends.

The only person Feliciano ever saw spend time with Ludwig was Kiku Honda. Kiku would also sometimes hang out with Alfred after school. Apparently, Alfred had an avid interest in Kiku's home culture. Feliciano figured it had something to do with their shared interest of superheroes and comics, but he wasn't entirely sure. Sometimes he'd hang out with the duo after school if he was avoiding getting pulled into one of Francis' spy games or perverted antics. This was exactly what he was doing the first week of October when Alfred left to get them sodas from the vending machines. They were sitting out on the lawn behind the high school. It was still warm outside, as if summer had a hard time going away. Now alone with the only person close to Ludwig, Feliciano couldn't hold himself in.

"Kiku! You know Ludwig, right? You hang out with him."

"Yes, I do."

Feliciano rubbed his hands together. "I wonder if you know why he doesn't hang out with anybody. He's always alone, you know?" He bit his lip and watched Alfred bang on the vending machines with his fist.

"Does it bother you? It hasn't bothered any of the others." Kiku studied Feliciano. His dark eyes were muted, and Feliciano couldn't guess what Kiku was thinking. "Why do you want to know?"

"I want to… I don't know." Feliciano's face fell. "Everyone tells me he's a mean guy, but I don't think so. Even if he's scary, he was nice to me that first day. I don't know why he told me to stay away from him. But I want to be his friend." He smiled again, as wide as he could. His whole face lit up.

"I see. Very well. As it so happens, I do know why he cannot stand to be near you. It is simple, really." He paused a moment and looked at Alfred, who was now kicking the vending machine and apparently yelling at it. "He is allergic to garlic. The very smell of it makes him sick, and you constantly smell of it."

"That's… it?"

Then something strange happened. For the first time since Feliciano met him, he saw a small smile pull at the solemn boy's lips. It was incredibly cute. "That's it. However, if I may ask-"

But whatever it was Kiku wanted to ask, Feliciano never heard him. He jumped up excitedly, his chest swelling with bottomless joy. To compound his elation, Alfred was running back now with the sodas. He had four.

"He guys! Guess what? The vending machine tried to eat my money, but I kicked it a bunch of times and it totally gave me a free soda!" He handed Feliciano and Kiku their drinks, and kept the extra soda for himself. He guzzled it with great relish. "Ah! That's good! So I was thinking, it's October right? It's Halloween! I'm gonna throw the best Halloween party ever! You guys with me? Come on. I'm going to need tons of help putting it together!" Alfred's eyes sparkled behind his glasses.

"Okay! That sounds like lots of fun!" Kiku nodded his head without saying a word. His expression was back to being straight and hard to read. It didn't matter, though, since the other two of the trio had plenty of energy to spare.

They spent the rest of the afternoon talking about the upcoming party and what would be required for it. Halloween would fall on a Saturday this year, so curfew wouldn't be an issue. They could party all night if they wanted to. Alfred went through and made a list of all the scary movies he wanted, inviting himself to Kiku's collection. There were also decorations, food, costumes, music, and maybe a dozen other things Alfred shot off really fast, his speech going a mile a minute. Feliciano nodded and laughed along. Soon it was getting late, and they all had homework. Kiku excused himself politely, exchanging one last glance with Feliciano. Half an hour later, Alfred shoved the party notes in his backpack.

"Hey, Feliciano, how about we go shopping for some of this stuff next week? We'll go out next Friday and make a night of it."

"Ve. Sure. Sounds like fun. Oh, but I can't stay out too late. I have to be home by nine." It was Roderich's rule.

"Nine? Why that early? That's harsh!"

Feliciano opened his mouth and closed it. It was something he wouldn't be able to explain to Alfred. Instead he shrugged and went to the bike racks. "I got to go. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Alright. Don't forget: Friday!"

That night, when Feliciano prepared his lunch for the next day, he left the garlic hanging in the pantry.

.

For the rest of the week and the week after, Feliciano didn't cook with any garlic, and made sure he didn't eat any meals with garlic in them. Alfred continued to makes plans for the party, and by Friday the list of things he wanted for it nearly doubled. At lunch, Alfred pulled him to the side and told him that they could go into town right after school. They joined the others. Once again, Feliciano's eyes scanned the lunchroom for Ludwig. He sat with Kiku, as usual. After a few seconds, he looked up, and his blue eyes burned Feliciano from across the room. Turning his eyes away, Feliciano brought his sleeve up and sniffed. The smell of garlic was nowhere to be smelt.

Everything went on as normal until last period, P.E. Fitness testing was coming up, which Feliciano dreaded. He knew he wouldn't be able to pass. For the first half of class the coach divided them into pairs to measure their current fitness. The pairs were randomly chosen from the role.

"Feliciano, you work with Ludwig. Start with sit-ups."

A blush crept into his cheeks. He looked over at Ludwig, who was scowling. "It can't be helped, I think," he said. But as he got closer, Ludwig's expression softened. Soon it looked more confused than angry. "I'm sorry. I know you said stay away, but since coach said…"

"No, it's fine." Feliciano grinned from ear to ear upon hearing that. However, it didn't linger. Five minutes later he was on the verge of tears trying to do sit-ups. It was a horrible ordeal. His abdomen cramped badly.

"Ugh. Let's switch." He whimpered.

Ludwig sighed and rubbed his brow, but handed him the timer. He lay on his back with his knees up. "Ready." He said.

"And… go!" Feliciano hit the start button on the timer, and Ludwig started. A minute later, "Stop! Wow, that was good! You did fifty-one in a minute! How do you do that?"

"I apply myself." He grunted. "Let's do that again."

"Okay. And… go! Hey, you know how Alfred is throwing a Halloween party for everyone?"

"He's made sure the whole school knows. Are you counting?"

"Yes! Are you going to go?"

"To the party? Why?"

"It's going to be lots of fun. Do you have plans?"

"It's not any of your business. Is the minute up yet?"

"Eight seconds… Stop! Forty-six. I thought it'd be fun if you went to the party. There's going to be a movies and games. Alfred showed me his Ouija board and it was really creepy."

"I'm not interested." Ludwig said flatly.

Feliciano was silent as Ludwig did his third set of sit-ups. Then they moved on to pull-ups, another grueling task that left Feliciano feeling like every muscle in his arms was shredded and set on fire. He could barely manage to pull his chin over the bar once, while Ludwig pulled himself up easily. Sweat glistened on his strong arms; the thick muscles stood out each time he lifted his chin over the bar. He was better than Feliciano ever hoped to be as far as athleticism went. Suddenly a pounding entered Feliciano's ears, and he realized it was his heart. _It's so strange_, he thought, _why does he make me feel like this? Why does he have to be so robust?_

Thoughts continued to run through his head for the rest of P.E. And whether it was running, or stretching, or running from flying dodgeballs, Ludwig would sigh and rub his temples as Feliciano failed even the most basic displays of athletic ability. Eventually, Feliciano was hit right in the gut with a dodgeball and gratefully spent the rest of class on the sidelines. Francis and Arthur eventually eliminated each other and grumbled as they plopped down on either side of him along the wall. Ludwig held his ground, and played as he did everything else: seriously, with skill and precision.

"Are you still trying to hang out with that bastard? You don't give up. You should." Francis leaned close to Feliciano and poked his head roughly.

"I just asked him if he was going to Alfred's party." Feliciano cowered away from Francis and bumped into Arthur.

"Yes, well, you should have saved your breath. Ludwig does not hang out with anyone. Except Kiku." Arthur pushed Feliciano forward. "How is the party coming, anyway? What sort of pranks has Alfred planned for this year?" Arthur rested his chin on his hand casually, but the rest of his body was pointed at Feliciano with undivided attention.

"Ah, sorry. That's a secret. You know, so Francis won't tell everyone."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Francis glowered. "It didn't bother you to tell Ludwig about Ouija and the movies and games. Surely you can spare me a few details to run with?"

Feliciano gulped. Once again, Francis had somehow gotten details about a private conversation he'd had. Whoever or whatever his source was, it was impressive and intimidating. "Francis, leave him alone. Just wait for the party like everybody else."

"I'm not doing anything." Francis said, hovering over Feliciano with a dark look on his face. The redhead threw his arms up defensively. "Come on, Feli. You can share a little with your friends. Just tell me what Alfred's planning-"

_Thwap_.

A bright red rubber ball bounced off the side of Francis' head. "OW! What the hell, idiot? We're the sidelines!" Francis spun around as the coach blew his whistle. The culprit stood coolly in the middle of his team's side. Ludwig's blue eyes met Feliciano's gold ones for a few brief seconds, just long enough for the smaller boy to realize that whatever just happened hadn't been an accident. The sound of bouncing dodgeballs filled the silence as the remains of both teams stopped.

"Ludwig! You're out!" The coach blew his whistle and the game started back up again. Ludwig walked to the sidelines, staring at Francis the whole time. By the time he reached the three of them, Francis obviously lost the battle of wills and scooted off. Arthur lasted a little longer, but also made himself scarce. Feliciano looked down, a slight blush creeping into his cheeks, as Ludwig sat down next to him.

"I don't get you." Ludwig said. "You shouldn't let yourself be such an easy target."

"Huh? I don't know what you mean. Thanks, though." Feliciano smiled up at him. He quickly glanced away and watched the remainder of the dodgeball game in silence.

.

Alfred never did anything conservatively. Not eating, not talking, and definitely not shopping. In a few short hours, he had filled the entire back of his SUV with things to transform his normal, everyday home into a haunted house. According to Alfred's plan, the first floor would be decorated as a haunted maze, full of traps and surprises that the guests would go through before they reached the stairs and the second level, where the actual party would take place. There'd be the traditional skeletons popping out from the walls and fake hands, but Alfred also wanted to switch things up a bit with strobe lights and a smoke machine. He also wanted to find two people who would dress up and chase the guests around the first floor.

"I'm going to ask Ivan on Monday, but I haven't found a second person yet."

"I could do it." Feliciano imagined himself dressing up in a scary costume and jumping out at people. It seemed like great fun, but Alfred gave him disbelieving smile.

"Sorry, Feliciano. It's just… no one at school thinks your scary."

"I could be scary if I wanted to." He sighed at the truth.

Since Halloween was still three weeks away, they couldn't pick up any food, but they still stopped by the grocery store to pick up peanut butter and red food coloring so they could practice making fake blood. After they picked up PVC pipe and paint from the hardware store, it was already seven. They stopped for dinner at one of Alfred's favorite burger restaurants, and he happily treated to the meal.

"So why is your curfew so early? I mean, nine o'clock, that bites. Your dad is totally strict." Alfred spoke around his burger and blew crumbs everywhere.

"Roderich is a friend of the family. And I have to be home early because vampires and demons hunt the most between nine and three." He didn't refrain from telling Alfred the truth this time. In context, he thought it might be a joke, which he did. The blood drained from the American's face and he actually stopped eating.

"Dude, n-not funny! Why would you say something scary like that? Is it cause of what I said earlier? I'm sorry!" He trembled.

"I'm just joking." Feliciano said.

"Uh-huh. Hey, we still need to get the music. I know a place at the mall." Alfred changed the subject quickly.

.

Alfred went to get the music while Feliciano stopped by a euro store to look for plastic bowls. They would meet up in the food court afterwards. They split up, and Feliciano wandered through the crowds alone.

He first noticed something was off coming out of the euro store. He didn't notice anything out of the ordinary, but a cold shiver ran down his spine and he got the sense that something wasn't right. Looking around, he only saw a few groups of people window shopping and lounging about. The walkways weren't too bad considering it was Friday. He pushed the sense of dread down into his stomach and began to walk at a brisk pace. From the corner of his eye, he saw a figure in a dark coat flicker in and out of sight. Sweat dropped in beads from his brow. Without thinking, he ducked into a clothing store. He peeked out over the racks of clothes to see if he could spot his follower, but he didn't see anything. His hand fell to his pocket for his cell phone. Roderich's number was on speed dial, in case of emergencies, but he wouldn't know how to explain calling him to Alfred.

He killed a few minutes looking at some fashionable fall jackets. Maybe it was nothing after all, he thought. Maybe it was all in his head, because he couldn't see any suspicious figure out in the mall now. He left the store with a little more courage. It didn't help, because it left him when he saw the figure from the corner of his eye again. The figure was much closer.

"Feliciano." He heard a hypnotizing voice in his ear. "Feliciano Vargas."

Legs moving on automatic, breath rapid, pulse racing, Feliciano looked frantically around. Surely he wouldn't get attacked in public like this? First, whatever was following him would try to isolate him. He just needed to keep people around him. No, that was dumb, because if they did attack him then lots of innocent people would get hurt. He couldn't run, and he couldn't defend himself. Fear crawled up his throat and lingered in his mouth in a hushed whimper. His shaky hands fumbled for his cell phone in his pocket. The plastic bowls clattered against his side.

"Feliciano." It was as if the person, or thing, the voice belonged to was right next to him. Only it wasn't, because it was right in front of him. He slammed into the second figure like hitting a wall. The two, working together, grabbed him under the arms and started dragging him away. Fear gave way to full blown panic. He struggled against his kidnappers, who grabbed him tighter. "Don't make a sound." The first figure said. Feliciano swallowed a scream, but couldn't help the rapid, ragged breaths that shook his chest. He was pulled over the walkway to a door marked 'EMPLOYEES ONLY', which his captors shoved open and dragged him along a bright, empty hall. Tears burned down his face. Surely it couldn't end like this? Getting kidnapped by two monsters and being too scared to even struggle? What a coward he was.

"Please," he choked out. "Please don't kill me. I haven't done anything, I swear! _Mio Dio_, please don't kill me! _Padre nostro che sei nei cieli, sia santficato il tuo Nome-_"

"What part of 'Don't make a sound' don't you get?"

Figure one picked Feliciano up by the throat and slammed him against the wall. White light and black dots swirled in his vision. When the blurs became sharper, he saw his two captors, their faces now contorted and lips curled back to expose their glistening fangs. They had yellow, feline eyes that looked at him hungrily.

"Vampiri…" Feliciano sobbed. Vampires. He'd die, drained of his blood if he was lucky, or torn limb from limb if he wasn't.

"I didn't know the grandson of Rome was such a crybaby. It's sort of disappointing, really. I was hoping for at least a little struggle." Vampire One sniggered.

"Think of it as an easy meal. I wonder what he tastes like." Vampire Two licked his lips.

"Not very good, I think! I eat pasta all the time and I eat lots of garlic so I wouldn't be very good at all!" Feliciano cried. Vampire One pressed his face into Feliciano's neck and inhaled deeply.

"Nice try, but I don't smell any garlic on you."

Feliciano's heart fell. He had forgotten; he stopped eating garlic over a week ago so he could talk to Ludwig. Fate was being too cruel. Now he wouldn't be able to spend time with Ludwig and he'd be dead. Closing his eyes, Feliciano resigned himself to fear and death. Hot breath hit his neck. Cloth tore. Sharp fangs pierced his skin with a small popping sound.

"Nn…" He felt the life sucked from his body. Shivers ran up and down his spine as the vampire's tongue swept up the running droplets of blood. This was it. Food for the damned.

The next instant, Feliciano's feet hit the floor and his knees crumpled beneath him. Were it not for the wall, he would have completely fallen over onto the floor. Opening his eyes a slit, he saw shiny boots flash in the fluorescent light like a dream.

"What do you think you're doing to him?" The dream's voice flitted to Feliciano's ears, but he couldn't believe it. Even looking up at the blond figure with the angry face, he couldn't believe it.

"Ludwig, you came..." Feliciano smiled. The tears streaming down his face were now tears of joy.

"You're ability to attract enemies never ceases to amaze me." Ludwig replied. Feliciano gave a weak laugh. His hand went to his neck where the blood flowed from the bite. He pressed down hard to try to control the bleeding.

Meanwhile, Ludwig fought the two vampires. Despite the uneven odds, he had no trouble with his opponents. When he first knocked Vampire One out of the way, Vampire Two leapt at him, fangs bared. Ludwig caught him just before the fangs reached his neck and slammed Two into the wall. He picked up One and they struggled back and forth for a few seconds until Ludwig curled his arm around One's head and twisted. A sickening _snap_ echoed in Feliciano's ears as One's body fell to the ground and disintegrated into black dust.

Two was back on his feet and, upon seeing his partner killed, reached into his coat and pulled out a handgun. Ludwig's widened slightly at the sight of metal. It lasted only a second. Two's finger squeezed the trigger several times. Ludwig dodged to the side, but his body jerked twice. He let out a strangled yell. Red droplets flew through the air. Inhaling sharply, he leaned against the wall. Vampire Two grinned victoriously.

_Plink. Plink._

Feliciano gasped when two deformed pieces of red metal tinkled to the floor. He raised his eyes. With the lights behind him, Ludwig appeared a mere shadow, but Feliciano could see that shadow stand up straight and heard Ludwig give a deep, inhuman growl. His blood ran cold then.

"What- the- hell?" Vampire Two shrieked as Ludwig reached out and tore the gun from his grasp.

"Next time, come with a battle strategy." Ludwig sucker punched Two.

"What are you doing protecting _him_?" Two staggered on his feet and lashed out blindly. Ludwig stepped back easily, grabbed his opponent's wrist, and twisted him into a yielding position on the ground. Subdued, Ludwig took his heads and snapped the neck of Vampire Two with the same sick sound as the first. Feliciano's stomach turned with nausea.

"Oooh…" Feliciano groaned. Slowly, he pushed himself up against the wall. His neck was still bleeding a little bit. Still, whether it was from blood loss or just gladness from being alive, he smiled. Seeing Ludwig there, even after seeing him kill two vampires with his bare hands, his heart fluttered. Would there never be a time he'd be unhappy to see Ludwig?

Ludwig looked down at Feliciano and noticeably flinched. Without coming closer he asked, "Are you okay?" Feliciano nodded weakly.

"Ve~. You saved my life. Grazie. I knew you weren't a bad guy."

"Don't talk. You have no idea what just happened." Ludwig tucked the gun under his shirt. Hesitantly, _very_ hesitantly, he walked over and crouched down next to him. He took a handkerchief from his pants pocket and pressed it against the bite wound.

"Of course I do." Feliciano responded a little indignantly. "You got shot but you aren't wounded. You're allergic to garlic. Whenever I get hurt you stare at my blood. You're a vampire. But I've never heard of one with blue eyes before, or that could go out into the daylight." Using the wall for support, he stood up. His legs felt like jelly but somehow they carried his weight. Ludwig gaped wordlessly at him. The looked of utter disbelief tinged with a little bit of blue struck Feliciano as adorable. The two points jutting out just into sight behind his lips were less adorable. They were more scary.

"It's okay," Feliciano continued. "My Grandpa Rome told me about all this stuff. I grew up around monster hunters. I don't hunt, though. You can guess why. You were my gym partner. I guess this sort of thing was bound to happen. Thank you so much for saving me!" He wrapped his arms around Ludwig in a tight hug and kissed his cheek. The pain in his neck throbbed and he remembered he was bleeding. "Sorry!"

"You…" Ludwig held his expression two more seconds, then closed his mouth and tried to return to normal. "You… You don't do anything normal."

Feliciano rolled his neck. "I'm sorry."

"Ah." Ludwig covered his nose and mouth. "There's a bathroom a little farther down. Would you mind washing up?" His voice was quiet.

"Yeah." Using the wall for support, Feliciano began down the hall. "Where are you-?"

"I'll be back soon."

Feliciano flashbacked to his first day in September as he rinsed the blood down the sink. The incident with the nosebleed must have been terrible for him. Kiku knew Ludwig was allergic to garlic, so it stood to reason he also knew Ludwig was a vampire. What motivated him to tell him about Ludwig's weakness? Feliciano thought to ask Kiku next time he saw him.

Next he thought about all the things he knew about vampires. Legends varied from region to region. Most drank blood. Some drank spinal fluid, and some ate flesh and bones. With Ludwig being an odd exception, they avoided the light of day. Garlic, being a blood purifier, repelled them. Religious symbols and rituals could harm them for some reason. Feliciano splashed ice cold water on his face. What more was there? Stakes. A stake through the chest only paralyzed a vampire. A vampire could be killed either by fire, decapitation, or dismemberment, preferably a combination of the above.

Remembering the sound of breaking necks caused Feliciano's stomach to twist. He rushed to a toilet and threw up. From inside the stall, he heard the door swing open.

"Feliciano?" Ludwig's voice lifted his spirits even as his stomach cramped and he puked again. He wiped his mouth on tissue, flushed the toilet twice, and stepped out.

"Hey." He said weakly as he leaned against the stall. Ludwig had a couple of bags from two or three of the stores around the mall.

"Sit down." He instructed, and Feliciano obeyed. Ludwig pulled out a first-aid kit from one of the bags. "Let me put a bandage on the bite." He was incredibly gentle, or just so hesitant as to avoid exposing himself to the blood any more than he had to. Strangely, it never crossed Feliciano's mind that Ludwig could lose control and eat him. That kind of idea was so far away it may as well have not existed. Instead, he relished the light touch of Ludwig's fingers brushing against his skin as he cleaned the bite with an antibiotic wipe and taped a bandage over it. It wasn't the kind of touch that came from someone who planned on eating you.

"I'm a blutsauger. That's German for bloodsucker. Unlike some other breeds, the sun doesn't instantly set me aflame. You see me at school during the day. I hunt at night. It's what I do. I'm a nocturnal predator. During the day I just… wait. Lately, that's been harder to do." Feliciano listened intently, mesmerized by the low sound of his voice. He spoke slowly and softly, even during his last accusation. "If you are the grandson of Rome, _the _Rome the Beast Slayer, you should know this. Hah. You should have also known to keep garlic on you and a cross. Don't be such an idiot and ring the dinner bell for Hell's forces."

"You're wearing a cross." Feliciano noted the black and silver cross that dangled from Ludwig's neck. Upon its mention, Ludwig touched it. He finished taping the wound.

"There." Ludwig exhaled and moved away. Feliciano touched the bandage curiously, but put his hand down when Ludwig hissed at him. "I got you a coat. It'll cover your shirt and neck if you zip it up all the way." Feliciano realized Ludwig was wearing his usual coat, which was blood free. He must have had the forethought of taking it off before fighting, but that thought led to implications Feliciano didn't want to think about tonight. Picking up the second bag, he pulled out a brand new fall coat.

"It's a little big." He told Ludwig after he zipped it up.

"I don't know what size you wear. It won't kill you to wear a baggy coat for one night." Thinking he had sounded ungrateful, Feliciano apologized. "Don't forget to take the tags off before you go out," was all Ludwig said in reply.

Cleaned up and covered up, Feliciano exited the bathroom when his cell phone rang.

"Ve?"

"WHERE ARE YOU! I"VE BEEN WAITING FOR HALF AN HOUR!" Alfred's voice boomed through the earpiece.

"Whaaa? I'm sorry! I forgot!"

"What do you mean you forgot! How do you forget?"

"I ran into- Ludwig!" At the sound of his name, Ludwig raised an eyebrow.

"So you just left me here in the food court by myself? Dude! What the hell? Get your ass down here!"

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Feliciano started walking quickly back toward the mall, but was struck by a bout of dizziness. Ludwig caught him under the arm before he fell. "We're really close! I'll be there in a minute! I'm sorry!"

"What was that?" Ludwig asked when Feliciano flipped his phone close.

"Alfred and I came here to get music for his Halloween party. I was supposed to meet him a long time ago." He glanced down at his watch. It was 8:15. If he was lucky, he'd make it home just before 9:00.

"Don't run. You've lost a lot of blood volume. Take it easy or you'll pass out."

"Ve~."

Ludwig made him stop at a water fountain before they got to the food court. To his surprise, he was very thirsty. He made a plan to grab a soda at the food court for the ride home.

"What are you doing here?" Feliciano suddenly asked. "When you saved me?"

"We hunt alone, not in pairs. I got suspicious when I saw the two of them working together. I saw you and figured you'd get yourself into trouble." He added quickly, "It's not good publicity for high school students to suddenly disappear and reappear with their blood missing."

"No, I meant, what were you doing at the mall?" Feliciano's head spun with the idea that Ludwig was looking out for his well-being.

"It's the mall." Feliciano cocked his head to the side quizzically. "It's Friday night. I'm a vampire." A shudder overtook every bone in Feliciano's body. _Oh_.

Alfred sat at a table near the middle of the court. There was an empty large-sized ice cream cup in front of him, and he sucked on the spoon. He saw Feliciano and Ludwig and waved them over.

"About time. I've been waiting for-ev-er. Hey Ludwig."

"Hello, Alfred."

"New coat? Nice. You leave me here while you go shopping for new clothes." Alfred grumbled. Feliciano blushed, remembering he was wearing the brand new coat Ludwig had bought for him. His fingers fiddled with the hem.

"Um, sorry. I'm really, really sorry."

Alfred removed the spoon from his mouth and gathered up the trash. "No big deal. You're here now. Did you at least remember to get the bowls?"

Feliciano had completely forgotten about them. He clenched his empty hands a few times when Ludwig handed the bag to Alfred. Another disaster averted thanks to Ludwig's intervention. Sighing, Feliciano's mind wandered to what might have happened if Ludwig hadn't shown up. The answer was simple, really. He would have died. That aside, he had thought to pick up the bag Feliciano had been carrying when he got attacked. No matter how much Ludwig denied it, Feliciano would vow for his character, vampire or not.

"Great. I think this is everything we can get tonight then. I can't wait to get started on the haunted house! You coming, Ludwig?"

Ludwig looked to Feliciano at his side and back to Alfred. "I don't know."

"Come on, dude! It's going to be great! It'll be the scariest thing you've ever experienced!" Alfred's voice got higher as he got more excited. Ludwig rolled his eyes.

"I highly doubt that." That was probably true, Feliciano realized, but Alfred didn't and took it as an affront to his haunted-house making skills.

"Oh yeah? Well you'll see! My haunted house is going to be the stuff of legend! It's going to scare the pants off everybody! You won't be able to sleep for a week! My haunted house is going to be the stuff of legend! It's going to scare the pants off you! You won't be able to sleep for a week! Tell him Feli!"

"It's really scary." Feliciano laughed nervously. He tugged on Ludwig's sleeve. "You should come. It'll be fun."

Despite being capable of killing two vampires by himself, Ludwig visibly weakened under the pressure coming at him from his two classmates. He rubbed his brow with his fingers. "Maybe I'll come. If I'm not busy." He caved.

Once Alfred tasted victory, it was all over. He jumped up and grabbed Ludwig's arms. "Awesome! You won't regret it! I'll make it, like, ten times, no, _fifty_ times scarier than I planned! I'll make you cry!"

"Wah! Don't make it that scary!" Feliciano pleaded. Alfred burst out laughing at this, and kept chuckling even as they started out toward his car. Ludwig followed them and listened silently as Alfred went on and on about how great the party was going to be, and how they needed to think about costumes, and starting the blueprints for 'The Scariest Haunted House in the History of Everything'. The contagious good attitude spread, and soon Feliciano forgot all about his near death experience and the fear that went with it. Outside in the dark parking lot with Ludwig and Alfred, he didn't feel even a little afraid.

"I'll see you on Monday." He told Ludwig.

"Er- why?" It bothered him how surprised Ludwig reacted to simple friendly gestures.

"Because of school. I'll see you at lunch, and art class, and P.E." The obviousness of the answer made him chuckle a bit.

"Yes, yes. At school. It doesn't bother you that I'm a blutsauger? Most rational people would be terrified." It might have been the light, but Ludwig's cheeks seemed to take on a rosy color.

"Ve~. That's really scary. But everyone is kind of mean to me and you're kind of a nice guy. We could be friends. You give me orders and I'll disappoint you. I'll get into trouble and you can swoop in to save me."

"Friends, huh." For a long moment, Ludwig simply stared at the smiling boy. "That could be… nice. You know that," he looked over Feliciano to the oblivious Alfred. "I could lose control at any time. I could kill you. Friends… er, we don't have to kiss, do we?" He scratched the spot where Feliciano had pecked him earlier.

"No. Unless you want to."

Ludwig turned his back before Feliciano could see the expression on his face. He cleared his throat. "We can be friends. I'll… see you on Monday."

.

After that, Feliciano spent most of his lunches at Ludwig and Kiku's table. As gruff as his exterior was, Ludwig slowly became warmer over time. Kiku still maintained his trademark stoicism, but Feliciano had a feeling he was pleased with the turn of events, too. His connection to vampires and Ludwig remained a mystery to Feliciano. It wasn't something they could easily talk about at school, where Francis heard everything and was especially pleased to gossip about the outcast duo becoming a trio. Whatever details he couldn't know, he made up, and over the next few weeks Feliciano heard a lot of strange stories which he easily laughed off. Ludwig picked a few fights with Francis for the rumors, but nothing ever came to blows and remained more or less passive aggressive. At least until dodgeball. The combined rivalry with Arthur and Ludwig's ire- Francis never stood a chance.

There was one thing about Ludwig that bothered Feliciano. Being the gourmet he was, after a few lunches with Ludwig he asked him whether or not he could still eat regular food. Ludwig confessed he could, but never bothered since it didn't satisfy him.

"But food is so delicious! Don't you miss shaved ice? Or pizza?" The idea of not enjoying cuisine was too foreign for his mind to wrap around.

"I haven't eaten regular food since I turned, except when I go drinking with my brother sometimes. It hasn't been a problem." Ludwig explained, not knowing the stirrings of a (albeit weak) plan forming in Feliciano's mind.

The next day, and every school day after, Feliciano packed extra lunch to share with Ludwig in hopes of coaxing him back to the world of delicious pastas and flavors, except garlic of course. Some prodding, some nagging, and lots of begging and tears later Ludwig relented. He must have liked it, since afterwards he resisted Feliciano's cooking less and less. The same plan didn't work with Kiku, however, who adamantly fasted.

He spent his school days with Ludwig, but on weekends Alfred worked Feliciano like a slave setting up the haunted house. Working wasn't so bad the weekend they spent painting the PVC pipe and backgrounds, but the actual building was torture. Arthur showed up sometimes to help too. Arthur had a great knowledge and fascination with witchcraft. He provided the reference books for the archaic symbols Feliciano painted. When the paint dried, the symbols looked impressive and ominous. Arthur also provided candles and incense, and showed Alfred exactly where they needed to be placed to create the correct atmosphere. A week before the party, Ivan Braginski and Toris Lorinaitus agreed to go along with Alfred's plan of acting as ghosts in the haunted house. By that point, most of the preparations were complete. On the last Sunday before Halloween, Feliciano stepped back and took it all in. It was a shame that the strobe lights and smoke would make it hard to appreciate the effort put into the house.

Late Saturday afternoon, Feliciano packed an overnight bag, changed into his costume, and left for Ludwig's house.

.

Ludwig didn't answer the door.

The sun was behind the houses. A loud barking came from behind the door when Feliciano knocked. Since Ludwig mentioned having a dog or three, he wasn't surprised. But when the door opened, it wasn't Ludwig who greeted him. The man had bright red eyes, platinum blond hair, and a slasher smile that chilled Feliciano's very bones.

"Dinner's here!" The man gave a vicious laugh. Feliciano's heart leapt to his throat and stayed there.

"G-G-G-Gya-"

"Don't just stand out there mumbling! You'll get cold! Get in here."

Feliciano's legs locked. Staring into those red eyes, he knew he wasn't looking at a human. The man's skin was too pale, his teeth too sharp…_Not again_, he thought with dread setting like concrete in his gut.

"You must be Feli. I'm Ludwig's stronger, handsomer, better big brother. The name's Gilbert Beilschmidtz. Pleasure."

"Where's Ludwig?" Feliciano finally choked out. A cold sweat broke out on his skin. His heart pounded in his ears and his hair stood on end, not in the good way. Gilbert's flashed his white fangs with a crooked smile. His eyes portrayed a monstrous hunger.

"He said something about grabbing a bite at the butcher's for dinner." He laughed at his own joke. "Seriously, though, I don't know how he stands that stuff for even one meal. I like my meat _fresh_." Gilbert leaned in.

"Stop!" Without thinking, Feliciano reached into his bag and fumbled around. He closed his fist around the silver cross and brought it up.

"Aaahhhh!" Gilbert recoiled. "Oh no! A cross! Gyahahaha, that's funny. Sorry, kid. I graduated from crosses a long time ago. You're going to need something a lot more powerful than that. Come on. I just want to talk. I heard there's a great party going on tonight. We'll use my car. It's the grey one."

As he talked, he grabbed Feliciano's wrists, forcing him to drop the cross. As soon as he felt Gilbert's cold hand, a spark of vigor burst inside Feliciano and he resisted getting dragged by Gilbert. They staggered around the living room, knocking over magazines, pillows, and a lamp. He kicked, he yelled, he lashed out with everything he could. Above him Gilbert growled, his fingers turning into black claws and his face stretching into a nightmare. Feliciano screamed and cried.

"I just- agh!- want- ergh- to- rrr- talk!" Gilbert grabbed Feliciano by the shoulders and slammed him into the floor. The blow knocked him senseless for a moment. In that time, Gilbert regained his composure. "Now let's get to that party."

Streetlights blurred into lines in Feliciano's vision. Gilbert's car smelled odd. The sick smell filled his nostrils and overwhelmed him. He didn't want to think what that smell might be.

"You smell delicious. I can hardly control myself around you. Don't take it as a compliment; I haven't eaten yet." Gilbert's voice was dark. "Feliciano Vargas, grandson of Rome the Beast Slayer."

Feliciano whimpered. "Why are you doing this?"

"Ludwig is my little brother. He's not as great as I am, but he's still my damned little brother. I've kept my eye on him since he turned. And he may be the most annoying brother to have ever been born, but I am _not_ going to let him screw up his un-life because of a high school _crush_ on a demon hunter!"

"No! No! You got it all wrong! I'm not a hunter! I've never hunted a monster my whole life! We just have art and P.E. together! And lunch too! Please don't kill me!" Feliciano pressed his body against the passenger door, his hand rapidly feeling for the handle. The door was locked and he was trapped.

"I'm not going to kill you." The sincerity in Gilbert's voice shocked Feliciano.

"You aren't?" His voice trembled.

"No. Ludwig is."

.

The sign in front of Alfred's garage said 'ENTER HERE… IF YOU DARE' in dripping black and red letters. Though he helped build the set, it looked completely different in the dark with the smoke machines on. Eerie music filled the air.

"This is neat. In a very corny kind of way." Gilbert pulled at a fake cobweb.

Feliciano hardly heard him. Inside, he was already half-dead. Gilbert's threat weighed on his chest and was suffocating him slowly. No matter what Gilbert said, Ludwig couldn't possibly hurt him. Ludwig _wouldn't_ hurt him. Ludwig was always saving him. He'd save him now. Feliciano held on to that one hopeful thought.

Gilbert lifted his nose and inhaled. "He's here."

"Gilbert. Feliciano, stop crying." Despite himself, Feliciano managed a small smile. "Let him go, brother."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? What do you see in him? As your awesome brother, I think it's time to give you some advice: Don't play with your food." Feliciano's eyes darted, but with the strobe effect and the smoke he wasn't sure where Ludwig was.

"Ve, Ludwig, where are you?"

A shadow shifted. A strong hand pushed Feliciano to the side and attacked Gilbert. The two disappeared into the smoke. "Run!" Ludwig commanded. Tripping over his feet, Feliciano moved away. This wasn't the same as the fight in the mall. Those vampires had no idea who they were messing with. This time, Ludwig was fighting his own brother.

He found a spot where the smoke was a little thinner. Alfred would be happy to know he succeeded in making his maze disorienting; Feliciano didn't immediately know where he was. If he found a window, he'd know. To find his way, he reached out to the wall and followed it. A few feet later, he found a door. It led to an old storeroom. Even if it was dusty and stuffy, it wasn't smoky. He flicked the light on.

"Haaa-AAAHHHHHHHH!"

A skull grinned in his face. It was attached to an entire skeleton clad in tattered black robes and a trailing white scarf. Its bony fingers curled around a wooden staff with a gnarled end. When Feliciano looked into the eye sockets, he would have sworn he looked into the darkness of eternity. All the breath left his lungs after he screamed. His arms slapped the door for the knob, but his fingers couldn't grab hold enough to turn it.

"Please stick to the main maze."

"Huh?" Feliciano looked over the skeleton's shoulder and saw Toris standing there. His face was heavily painted with zombie make-up. Which meant that…

The skeleton chuckled. "That was so funny how you screamed." Ivan removed the skull mask. "Good evening, Feliciano. We were just about to go on the first round to scare the guests. If they react half as much as you did, it will be a very entertaining night. I can't wait to see the look of fear on everybody's faces." Ivan gave the sweetest unsettling smile Feliciano ever witnessed.

Feliciano wiped the tears away from his eyes. "_Grazie a Dio_, it's you two. I nearly had a heart attack." It was hard enough knowing that two vampires were duking it out in the house. He wasn't sure he could handle vampires _and_ skeletons in one night. 

_Vampires in the maze_.

"Has anyone shown up yet? Or just you?" Toris asked.

"No! No one! You guys can stay here a little while longer. You should work on your costumes some more. Uh, what are you supposed to be?"

"I'm a liche necromancer. And Toris is my undead slave." Ivan gestured to Toris, who looked as unsettled as Feliciano felt. The reason Alfred wanted Ivan to be part of his party became glaringly apparent. Ivan replaced his skull mask. "Go back to the maze and find the stairs. We'll see you at the party." He placed his hand on Feliciano's chest and pushed him back out into the hallway.

Alone again, Feliciano thought about going back to the maze, then he thought about what he'd do if he bumped into Gilbert. He didn't have anything to defend himself with, possessed no fighting skills whatsoever, and his primary strategy of begging for his life had never worked so far. It was moments like this that made him realize just how pathetic he was, and the helplessness compelled him to sit against the wall and wait for something to happen.

Two loops of the horror track passed. He strained his ears, but couldn't hear any sounds that might have been fighting. Tentatively, using the wall as a guide, he tip-toed towards the maze. He bumped into a table with a crystal ball on it; it was a fortuitous turn. Feliciano bumped into that table tons of times while setting up. If he walked straight and took a right, he could follow the wall where the fake claws were until he found the stairs. Knowing the way made him feel a little more confident. If he could somehow know that Ludwig was okay and kicking Gilbert's ass, that would be better.

"Ludwig?"

A loud _BAM_ thundered in the room. Feliciano screamed. His bones turned to jelly. The floor came upon him in a rush. The strobe lights blinked a thousand colors over him; his every movement looked distorted. The pungent smoke burned his nostrils. Whatever part of his senses weren't encumbered by either, the crying took care of.

"Ludwig!" It didn't sound like his voice when it reached his ears. It sounded far away. "Ludwig!"

"Feliciano?"

Feliciano sobbed in relief. Calloused hands seized him. "You're crying again." Everything moved in slow motion. Ludwig pulled him up to his feet. Feliciano wrapped his arms around him tightly. They stumbled together over to the wall.

"Where's Gilbert?" Feliciano stifled a hiccup.

"He's gone. He's like that. He comes, stirs up trouble, and leaves once he's had his fill of causing trouble for everyone. What is it they say? His bark is worse than his bite."

"That's funny." Feliciano chuckled.

Being in Ludwig's arms was the ultimate comfort. The warmth of his firm grip. The clean smell of his collared shirt. The soft thumping of his undead heart beating in time with his. A sense of security filled Feliciano.

"Gilbert told me you would ruin your un-life if you stayed with me." Feliciano murmured. He paused. "He said that you would kill me."

Feliciano felt the muscles in Ludwig's body stiffen. "He said what?" He hissed between his teeth. Immediately Feliciano regretted saying anything.

"It doesn't bother me. He was probably lying, and I know you wouldn't hurt me on purpose. Because we're friends."

"I _can_ hurt you, Feliciano. Pay attention for once. I'm a blutsauger. I'm a predator, and you are very easy prey." Ludwig curled his lips upwards to expose his fangs. Feliciano shuddered at the sight but gulped down the uneasy feeling.

"When I was younger, I found a scroll in my Grandpa Rome's library. Inside it had a story about vampires. They hunted their own kind, though they still needed to drink human blood. Instead of hunting humans, they would make contracts with them. The humans knew the _stregoni benefici _wouldn't attack them on purpose, and willingly offered their blood and bodies."

Ludwig scowled. "Are you saying you want to make a contract with me for your blood?"

"No, just that, if you asked, I'd let you drink my blood. It wouldn't bother me at all if it was you. I like you. I _really_ like you." Feliciano clenched his fists. His breath was light and rapid after the confession, but he felt happy. Ludwig had on that expression that usually preceded the words, 'I don't get you', followed by a list of all his reckless actions.

"I don't want to drink your blood." Ludwig looked Feliciano in the eyes. Frozen blue met warm amber. "You shouldn't go offering it to me because of an old story."

"It's not because of the story. It's because it's you. Do you like me, Ludwig?"

"What?"

"Do you like me?" Feliciano asked with more gravity in his voice. He wouldn't give up until he got an answer.

"I don't know what that has to do with anything."

"Do you like me?"

"It wouldn't change anything if I did."

"But do you like me, Ludwig?"

Ludwig frowned. His mouth stretched into a thin line. He bowed his head and muttered under his breath.

"I can't hear you." Feliciano prodded.

Ludwig lifted his head. "Yes, Feli, I like you." For the first time, he used that nickname. It sounded so much more affectionate on his lips.

Feliciano wouldn't have been able to describe the joy bursting from his chest if he knew every language in the world. "_Questo mi rende felice_!"

"I don't speak Italian."

"I'm so happy you said that!" Feliciano dug his face into Ludwig's shirt. He unclenched his fists and let his relaxed palms rest on Ludwig's back. Ludwig's hands were less natural. They clumsily rested at his waist. His body was still tense. Feliciano stood on the tips of his toes to get a better reach over the taller boy. The few centimeters put their faces incredibly close.

"Do we have to kiss now?" Ludwig asked.

"No. Unless you want to."

Ludwig hesitated, but Feliciano didn't. Tugging some, he brought him down the final centimeter for their lips to connect. They kissed briefly as a thousand sparks erupted in Feliciano's brain. Parting didn't last long before their mouths mashed together again. It was chaste but it felt unbelievably good. Ludwig's hands slipped from Feliciano's waist to his lower back. One of Feliciano's hands snaked its way into the slicked back blond locks. He moaned in the heat of the moment, which caused Ludwig to jerk and stop. The second break was even shorter than the first.

"Honhonhon, what is this? You're supposed to play that game in the closet. Though I like where your dirty minds are heading." Francis' voice came from another world as far as Feliciano cared, and he wouldn't let Ludwig the spare seconds needed to care. He'd just have to take his frustrations out in P.E. on Monday.

The good thing eventually came to its end, leaving Feliciano and Ludwig gasping for breath.

"Hey Ludwig, if you're a vampire, why do you need to gasp for breath?"

"I'm undead, not dead-dead." He pressed his lips to the corner of Feliciano's mouth.

"I think I get it. You know, Ivan's around here somewhere in a skeleton costume. It's really scary. Let's go to the party now. The stairs are, um, this way, I think." Feliciano pointed.

"I know where it is. I smell where everyone is."

"You can?"

"I'm a hunter. It's what I do."

Ludwig held Feliciano's hand and guided him through the smoke. Soon they could see the orange lights of the electric jack-o-lanterns going up at an angle. At the top step, a masked figure revved a chainsaw missing its chain.

"So what do you think? Isn't this the best haunted house ever? Did it scare you?"

"I'm more afraid of you wielding that chainsaw in a crowded place, Alfred." Ludwig replied bluntly.

"Alright! You're totally scared! Have you seen Arthur? This is so great! Come on up! It's a blast up here!"

Feliciano squeezed Ludwig's hand. When Ludwig looked down, Feliciano nodded towards the party. Together, they ascended the staircase.

* * *

><p>AN: Wait, this was supposed to be a Twilight parody! What happened? Well, just before I got into the real good parody bits, I googled Italian/German vampire legends. There is something alluring about the vampire love genre, especially when actual blood-sucking vampires are involved. Some creative flair is optional. The ending seemed a little lame, but I don't think their sibling love-hate relationship would include really trying to kill each other. It made room for more cheesy yaoi goodness.

On a couple other notes, I originally wanted to use their country names, but then I thought how badass the name 'Ludwig' is for a vampire. Think about it. Say it. Imagine it. I also have a rough sketch of what a couple more installments of this would be like which I plan will flesh out into something more action oriented, but that's all for another time. In order to get this out on Halloween, I did very little editing, so the pacing feels like crap and it's probably littered with errors.

Happy Halloween, people. Thanks for reading.


	3. Brother and Sisters: Russia, Belarus

Brother and Sisters

.

This was not something that brothers and sisters were supposed to do. He chastised himself for not stopping her. There is no bond as intimate as the link between two siblings. No parent, no husband or wife, and no friend can know a child as well as their brother or sister. They had neither parents nor partners. Friends were unknown; invading countries never just wanted to talk peacefully. In truth, their sibling bond was even closer than normal. When she looked into his eyes, he knew she understood the loneliness and desperation behind them. She knew the cold. She knew the hardships. He never had to say the things that he didn't have the words to describe. All she would have to do is look at him with her eyes full of compassion. When she took his hand in hers, she was saying, _I'm here, I'm here_. They had long since transcended words.

"I love you, big brother." Her pale lips trembled around the words. She blushed. He stood there dumbly. What was he supposed to say?

"Little sister," he started. She looked up at him. He realized for the first time how much taller he was than her. But she was still growing. Ukraine was tall, too. Ukraine… He clutched his scarf. "I love you." He meant it. He loved her with his whole heart. He couldn't not love her. She was jealous and strong-willed, but she was also shy and sincere. Young as she was, she was already lovely. Her straw-blonde hair fell to her shoulders now; a simple band kept the bangs out of her watery blue eyes. She was slender and her body had yet to fully develop, but curves were budding in the appropriate places. Someday, he thought, she'd easily be beautiful. It would be his duty as a brother to keep pesky countries from conquering her. Sword and shield, horse and arrow, he'd lay down his life to protect her if it came to that. Winter be damned, he'd be there for her if she needed him. And it was all for his love of her, his little sister. _But__—__ God save me!__—__ not like this!_ He looked into her eyes. He wanted her to understand: This complete, unfaltering love was for her. Still, there were things brothers and sisters should not do, no matter how great the love. Not that love.

She seized his shoulders and pressed him against the wall. So caught off guard, he didn't turn his head in time. He tightened his grip on his scarf with one hand and used the other to push her away. What was she doing? Her compassionate eyes were wild, and he didn't understand what she was trying to say. Or he didn't want to. He didn't want to understand the way she gazed at him, her arms reaching to wrap around him, her lips slightly puckered. It was an inappropriate look for her. She clung to him. Her breath was on his neck; her fingers were in his hair. He did nothing to stop her.

Three siblings stood in the middle of a forest. A big sister, a brother, and a little sister. They had no parents or guardians. Other children came to pick on them and bully them. It was always cold. The snow was always deep. There was little food and living was hard. The brother endured his harsh lifestyle quietly. When he finally became overwhelmed, he shed no tears. He turned to his big sister who, like the tender mother they never had, comforted him. She was silly, but her heart was large. Then the little sister came, and she gave him words of encouragement. She reminded him of how strong he was. Standing in the snow, they took each other's hands in an unspoken vow that these bonds would never be broken. Two sisters and one brother— if no one else would, they would love each other to the end, for they were all they had. No money, no formidable militaries, no treasure except this quiet place in the snowy woods they dwelled in relative safety. Three of them. Always three. The memory faded to a white blur in his mind.

He noticed how resentfully she eyed the scarf, and real anger swelled in him. She nearly choked him trying to tear it off, but he wouldn't let it go. Why couldn't it be the three of them? Life was difficult in the white. Somewhere along the way, they had let go. The thought was enough to bring tears to the corners of his eyes. Why didn't he hold on harder? Why was he weak when he needed to be strong? His heart was breaking. Any moment now, he thought, it would just fall right out of his chest and he'd lose it forever.

"You said it, brother! You said you love me. You love me. You love me. You love me." With each repetition, she pounded her fist against the wall next to his head. She dropped her voice, and he had to strain to hear what she said next. "If you love me, let's get married." The look in her eyes said she was entirely serious, albeit in a slightly hysteric state. He couldn't take it anymore. He shoved her away without holding back. Free now, he loosened his scarf and panted. She stared at him with her arms limp at her sides.

"No." She flinched as if he just cut her.

"Marry me." She came at him again with arms open, but he stopped her this time.

"No."

"Marry me."

"No." With every 'no', his voice grew more resolute. "You're my sister."

"She was our sister. She left us. I'm never going to leave your side, brother. So why shouldn't we get married? If you love me, and I love you, doesn't it make sense? It makes sense, big brother!"

"No. No matter how much I love you, a brother and sister can never become man and wife. Someday you'll understand. For now, listen to big brother." He collected himself. If she threw a tantrum, his duty was to remain calm. It was not a pretty sight. She screamed and scratched her face. She flung her arms. Her dress ripped. Tears gushed from her eyes as snot dripped from her nose. The band holding her hair back slipped off; her hair twisted and stuck to her face. The whole time she cried out until she fell to her knees and begged him, "Marry me! Marry me!" He became increasingly frightened by her behavior. Slowly, he backed away until he felt the door, but it occurred to him he couldn't leave her. He couldn't do anything to help her, either. Women were hysterical creatures, he heard. Craziness would run itself out. When it did, she'd understand. She'd look into his eyes and know the love he had for her was still there. This proved it: he would stay to make sure she didn't hurt herself. Afterwards, he'd make them tea and everything would be fine. In a few decades she would look back on this and blush. Maybe by then it'd be the three of them again. It was a happy thought.

She finally quieted. Her body lay limp on the floor, but her shoulders heaved and he could hear her sobs. He went to her and dried her eyes with his scarf.


	4. Loss for Words: Germany, Italy

Loss for Words

.

It's not something I can explain. It's feeling: raw emotions welling up and filling and breaking and pouring out like a pot boiling over. One time, we had a fight, sort of— he was angry about something, so I tried to cheer him up, but he got this pained look on his face and got angrier. At that point I started to freak out (because the last thing I ever wanted to do was make him upset; it hurt me to see him like that and worse if I was the cause of it), and when I finally got too scared I cried and ran away. I went to my room and painted. With a brush in my hand, I lost myself in pouring my very soul onto the white canvas. What came out was a parade of bright and dark colors, swirling and entwining into brown and gray then bursting out into their own individual splendor in wild abandon. It was like that, but even describing the painting doesn't convey the meaning. I never hung it up, not once in almost a thousand years; I keep it covered in a corner in my studio. I take it out sometimes and just look at it for a while. It makes me sentimental.

I showed it to Germany, but I couldn't tell him what it was about. The words stayed in my throat. That happens sometimes but only with him.

"It's very nice." He seemed to be reluctant to choose his words and snapped his mouth shut as soon as he finished speaking. He squinted, scrutinized, and furrowed his brow in concentration. "What is it supposed to be?"

I chuckled. "It's not supposed to be anything. I painted it a long time ago when I was still.— in Austria's house. Back then it was a real mess, but nowadays it looks like something you'd see in a museum. Art is funny that way." Looking back at the painting, I noted that it could use some touching up. The colors weren't as vibrant as they should have been, and I suddenly felt very dumb for showing it to Germany like this.

"You were an artist ahead of your time." Germany gave me a look. I quickly took the canvas away.

"Thank you, Captain." I smiled, but Germany was so sharp he picked up on the half-heartedness in it. He frowned at me. Trying very hard not to drop my shoulders and recoil at his intense look, I pulled the sheet over the painting and set it back in its corner where it would stay until I had the time to work on it. "Ve. I think we should have pasta for lunch."

"Italy… Ja, pasta would be nice. Just try not to make a huge mess like last time."

I chuckled. "Si, Captain. No mess." Taking one last look at the corner, I followed Germany out of the studio. As I flipped the light switch, I felt a piece of me being put away for a long time.

History repeats itself, and after a couple centuries things can blur and look the same. They have the same eyes. Those harsh, Germanic eyes that are so hard and cold the warmth of feeling can't really shine through. Both of them— Germany, and him— at first, I thought they were terrible. But they both turned out to be really great people. Kind. Strong. Really scary looking. I feel it happening all over again. There are moments I think I smell the fragrance of a million flowers in an open field, or feel the warm sun against my cheeks as the form of a rabbit appears on a white canvas. Only instead it's the smell of wood finish drying on the cuckoo clocks, and the burning in my lungs trying to keep pace around the running track. And it's not him glaring at me from around the corner with deeply buried fondness in his eyes; it's Germany, scowling at me as I catch my breath and beg for a pasta break.

The feelings are welling up again in my heart. There's a war on the horizon, looming like an animal in a cage, waiting until just the right moment when the door is opened to break free and lash out. Tempers are short. The citizens are restless and have been discontented too long. The world is bending under the weight of the Depression. Germany is busier now, his boss rushing him from one job to the next. I spend a lot of time now wondering what I can do. I _should_ do something. Not like back then, when I was younger, when I was scared when I should have been braver. If I'm given this chance to correct that mistake, then I will take it. I only wish it didn't take so many wars for me to realize this.

"I'm sorry." I whisper to the painting, now propped up on an easel.

"Italy?"

I jump and spin around. Germany is standing in the doorframe, looking very official in his military uniform. "Ahh! Captain! I didn't think you'd come today."

"We need to go over strategies." His eyes flick between me and the painting. Blushing, I cover it. "You showed me that one before."

"Si. It needs some touching up, but I can do it later. I'll go get changed." He didn't like it when I went to war meetings dressed casually, even if the meetings were in my own house.

"Why," He pauses, and the only sound I hear is the rapid beating of my heart in my chest. "Why is that painting important to you?"

"Huh?" I pull my smock over my head.

"You have dozens of other paintings and works of art, but this one..." He looks at me. "Forget I asked. Hurry up and put clothes on."

"Germany."

He stops, and I wonder what I thought I was going to say. _It's special because someone I loved very much died a long time ago_.I breathe in. _I never told him what I needed to say_. He looks over his shoulder back at me. _It's okay. You don't have to prove anything_. I open my mouth. _I don't want to watch you leave and never come back_.

"After the meeting, let's have gelato. I made lots this morning."

"Stop thinking about food when we have business to deal with!"

"Ve, but I'm hungry." Tears well up in my eyes at his outburst. His face is terrifying when he's this angry.

He storms off. I stay behind to return the painting to its corner. Thinking about it, I wonder if saying anything would have made a difference at all.

.

Well, back to GerIta, with a little HRE thrown into the mix. I swear, I've got a half dozen other fics for every other Axis and Ally character, but all I ever finish are these ones. I wanted to post this quickly, so I didn't edit it. I kind of wish I did, though, because the tenses are a bit of a bitch. It came out so sad, too. I think I'll write a Spamano one next, just to cheer up. Fusosososo~


	5. My Ravioli: Italy, Axis and Allies

My ravioli, my ravioli

What is pasta all about?

My ravioli, my ravioli

Ve~

Pasta is magic! (My ravioli)

What could keep me from being so hungry? (My ravioli)

Better than the cheeses from Germany

"You're talking about pirozhki, da?"

"He obviously means my country's fried rice, aru."

"Mais non! Pot-au-feu is the finest delicacy!"

"I believe nikujaga is more delicious than your food."

"Ah, Ita-chan, would you like some fresh churros I made?"

All these things are good to eat

And pasta makes it all complete!

So I'll eat my ravioli~

Did you know you are my favorite food?

Ve~

"What about my scones? They're homemade!"

"Dude, you're cooking sucks."

"Why you little—!"

"Haha, you hit like girl."

.

My brother came out suddenly, so I'm trying to be open-minded and supportive. I just wish he wouldn't try to make me watch it with him. Is there a "My Big Brother is a Brony" Anon support group?

Well, readers, I have a bit of self-promotion for you. In six days, I'm going to start working on a huge Hetalia fic. The fic is called _The Stars Abide_ and will star England, Germany, and Francey-pants. The story goes: England is betrayed by his boss and will do anything to protect his countrymen before it's too late; Germany discovers something that could save the world, but he loses control and instead it threatens all of Europe; France is worried when Germany and England seem to go insane, but his boss sends him away to support Russia in quelling a Chinese rebellion. How are these plots connected? Check it out this September.


	6. Distress: Russia, Lithuania

Distress

.

"Take off your clothes." Russia's large hands were frantic, tugging at the stubborn buttons of Lithuania's coat. It didn't help that Lithuania was hindering his progress by trying to bat his hands away. Lithuania's fingers fumbled to grip around Russia's wrists but they wouldn't, for they shook so badly he had no control over them. He threw his arms up instead, hitting Russia's bare chest.

"No! No! Puh-Puh-Puh-Please…" Lithuania's pale lips could barely form the words. His large, wet eyes and high voice reminded Russia of a moose calf.

"But you have to." Time was precious. He couldn't wait for Lithuania to decide to be cooperative. Shifting his weight to give himself a better angle, Russia gave the fabric a single, hard yank. The buttons popped off and flew everywhere. He slipped one arm under Lithuania's shirt around his back, pulled the smaller nation closer to him, and began coaxing the coat from its owner's shoulders. Lithuania's damp skin was ice under Russia's fingertips. The rosy glow that usually filled Lithuania's cheeks was gone, replaced by ghostly white. His hair was disheveled, strands clinging to his forehead as the frost that clutched to it melted and the rest was gradually drying into a tangled mess.

"Let me take your coat off. I don't want to hurt you." He found himself gasping for air as he worked to remove the clothing. Why was Lithuania, who Russia could depend on for being sensible and level-headed, being troublesome now?

"I duh-duh-don't wh-wan—. Leave muh-me alo—. He-elp! Estonia! Latviaaa!" Lithuania's shallow breath hitched, and Russia worried he might pass out. Then again, that would make undressing him a lot easier since he wouldn't be awake to struggle.

"Estonia and Latvia are gone, remember? They were called to Estonia's house. We're alone."

"No! Somebody, help me!"

"I'm trying!"

Outside, the wind shrieked and howled. The window shutters prevented them from seeing the blizzard outside. The house was dark except the warm glow of the crackling fire that cast tremulous shadows on the walls. The two men were on the floor in front of the fire. Russia had stripped naked already and hung his clothes to dry, but for whatever reason he couldn't convince Lithuania to do the same, even though the wet clothing clung to his skin and sucked all the heat from his body.

He had to wrench Lithuania's arms back to remove the coat. Lithuania cried out in pain. Russia winced. This is for his own good, Russia thought. Images floated through his mind, images of peeling black flesh, frozen bodies half buried in the snow, crazed men who lost all connection to reality, suffering, pain, and quiet death. Every picture was horrible and Russia wished he could forget, but at the same time he didn't in order to appreciate how horrible it was. The last image was the most recent: Lithuania lying still on the icy road, covered by a rapidly thickening layer of white snow.

His hands worked faster, threw the coat over his shoulder, and grabbed the hem of Lithuania's shirt. He ripped the shirt up the back, the sound of tearing fabric almost as loud in his ears as Lithuania's short breaths. His heart raced.

That was the cost of protection, absolute protection from invasion. The old man, cruel but honestly impartial, saw to it that any enemy crossing into his territory would not walk out unscathed, if they walked out at all. However, the policy wasn't strictly for enemies. Russia, too, suffered, but his body was large enough and hard enough and strong enough to endure that he didn't notice being cold anymore, only noticed the lack of warmth. Not so much for his sisters and friends and Lithuania, soft-spoken Lithuania, who possessed an indomitable spirit but a slim, fragile body. Russia was terrified he'd break Lithuania in two if he kept being so rough. If only Lithuania would trust him.

Russia tossed the two halves of a shirt on top of the coat without looking away from Lithuania's face. He was pleased to see Lithuania offering much less resistance now, though weak whimpers came out as small squeaks and the tears stood out in his cabbage-green eyes. Lithuania's muscles shivered trying to warm his blue-tinted flesh. His body lay half-naked and prostrate before Russia, vulnerable to his touch. Russia placed his hands on Lithuania's flat stomach and rubbed them over his stomach, up his quivering chest, over the slopes of his shoulders, down his slender arms, creating heat from the friction.

When his hands slid across Lithuania's back, Russia felt every bump and ridge that marked a scar beneath his fingertips. The scars were meaningful to Russia. Each one of them was a symbol of their connection. Lithuania was his, only his, the one who had given the scars to bind them, each one holding a memory. In the same way, he was Lithuania's; those scars were as much his to claim. The memories were theirs to share. Bad scars, good scars. Wars and reunions. Times of celebration; times when Russia could barely remember there was at least one good thing left in the world. Russia fingered the scars lovingly, hoping desperately that this night would not leave another bad scar across their history.

Each touch caused Lithuania to flinch, as if in pain. He leaned forward to break contact between his back and Russia's hand, which drove him completely into Russia's embrace, and he threw up his arms between them, keeping them close but separated. Russia couldn't decide whether to smile or frown, either from Lithuania pressing close to him, close enough he could smell the earthy scent of distant rye fields, or that Lithuania had recoiled from his touch, even though he was trying to help and being as gentle as he could. He wrapped an arm around Lithuania's waist, bringing their bodies as close together as possible, letting his body heat warm Lithuania. The small nation let out a raspy sob, and Russia felt droplets hit his thigh. He looked down and saw tears dripping from Lithuania's hidden face.

Russia decided to smile. Perhaps if Lithuania saw him smile, he'd be comforted.

He wasn't.

The crying got worse.

"Lithuania," Russia whispered, cupping Lithuania's cheek in his free hand and lifting it so he could look into the other's face. It was unnerving, the way Lithuania looked at him, like he had betrayed Lithuania some way and hated him for it. He might as well have staked Russia in the heart with an icicle for the pain it caused.

Should he stop? He couldn't possibly. Lithuania still hadn't removed all of his wet clothes. Russia moved his hands to undo the belt buckle when Lithuania gasped and reached for his wrists. His hands still couldn't form a grip but he dug his nails into Russia's skin, leaving red crescent moons behind.

"Duh-Don't." Lithuania gulped. "Don't. Russia…"

"I have to. Let me."

Lithuania continued to protest and scratch him, but Russia worked the belt buckle loose because the scratches weren't physically painful. They repeated the same lines over and over, Lithuania pleading him to stop, and Russia begging to help. He wanted to take the cold away. He wanted to make Lithuania forget about the raging blizzard outside and make him warm again, no matter what. But he didn't want to hurt him, either, if he could help it.

The belt finally taken care of, Russia slipped his fingers under the waistbands and pulled both trousers and underwear down over Lithuania's narrow hips. A burst of energy coursed through Lithuania's body as he began fighting Russia off with renewed vigor. He brought his knee up. Russia thrust his hips back to avoid being hit. Lithuania's leg was in the perfect position, and before Russia could react, he landed a kick into Russia's gut, sending the larger nation reeling backwards. Russia clutched his belly in surprise while Lithuania scrambled up, but Russia was not hindered by being frozen and recovered quickly. Cold, unrestrained anger exploded within him. He leapt forward. Their bodies collided, falling the short distance to the floor. Lithuania grunted after his head knocked against the floor. Russia pinned him down, straddling his legs on either side of his hips. Russia tangled his fingers in the damp brown hair and pressed Lithuania's face against the rug, letting his weight settle on top of the other's back and prevent him from struggling further.

"Stop," he ordered, lips centimeters from Lithuania's ear. Lithuania did not obey the first time, so he twisted his fingers and pressed harder. "I said, stop."

After a deep, ragged breath, Lithuania's body stilled. The anger flooded out of Russia as swiftly as it came.

"Now," Russia loosened his grip slightly. "I'm going to finish undressing you, and you aren't going to fight anymore. You understand, yes?"

Lithuania nodded slightly.

"Say you understand."

"I und-" Lithuania gulped audibly. "I understand."

"Good. Don't move."

Russia rose, letting his hand brush over the scars as it moved lower. He slipped his fingers under the waistbands again, pausing a second to wait for a reaction. Lithuania muttered something but obediently allowed Russia to continue. He had the trousers down to Lithuania's knees when realized something and laughed.

"Guess what?"

"Hm?" Lithuania turned his head to the side. His expression was listless. Russia's heart sank, but he thought this might give Lithuania a laugh and that would be good for him.

"I was taking off your pants, but I forgot to take off your boots first!"

"Yes, that's funny."

"I know!" Russia smiled, reaching out to move a strand of hair out of Lithuania's face.

The boots were quickly removed, followed by a pair of thick grey socks. The trousers and underwear went in one last pull, and finally Lithuania was fully undressed. His skin was no longer tinted blue, only white as the snow Russia had found him in, and it gave off an ethereal glow as it reflected the light from the fire. Russia reached for a quilt and pulled it over Lithuania.

"I'm leaving for a minute. Stay by the fire, please?"

Lithuania nodded.

Before leaving, Russia placed a new log into the fire. He grabbed a second quilt and wrapped it around his body as he walked through the dark, empty mansion. Everything was colder away from the parlor and the fireplace. He went to the kitchen, where the light was on as he left it. Two kettles heated on the stove, one tea concentrate, the other boiling water, both ready for pouring. Russia prepared two cups. Lithuania preferred bitter tea, which wasn't possible tonight as Russia scooped sugar into the two cups, so to counter the extra sweetness Russia added more concentrate. He hoped Lithuania would like it, but if he didn't, well, what was one cup of tea?

Russia returned carrying a tray and found Lithuania had curled into a ball underneath the quilt. He cleared his throat to make his presence known. A little brown head poked out from beneath the quilt like a little mammal poking its head out of the comfort of its den. Russia blushed and thought of how incredibly cute Lithuania looked doing that.

"I made tea for us."

Clutching the quilt with one hand to keep it in place, Lithuania used the other to push himself up. He looked at the teacups doubtfully.

Russia looked apologetic. "I tried to make it the way you like," he explained.

Lithuania turned his head to stare at the fire. "Why are you doing this?"

The question baffled Russia. What was Lithuania asking him, 'Why?' Did he honestly not know the answer? Or had the cold, which had made him so irritable and reluctant to accept Russia's help, confused him on this point as well? Either way, Russia wanted to reassure him.

"Because you're my little Lithuania." He had never said the words out loud before, but they came so naturally to him now he didn't mind letting them out into the open. He offered the cup of tea to Lithuania, who looked at it, then Russia's face, then back to the cup before bowing his head.

"Okay." Lithuania reached out with a trembling hand. Russia gently pushed his hand down and held the cup against Lithuania's lips. He sipped slowly, pausing once in a while to stare pensively. Russia wished he knew what Lithuania was thinking but had to be content with the fact that he was being compliant.

A little later, Lithuania drained his cup and Russia's too, and was curled up under his quilt again, this time with Russia's arm wrapped around him. Russia pulled his quilt over them, and soon they were huddled together in a cocoon of warmth, the blizzard as far away from them as the moon.

But Lithuania was still trembling.

Hadn't Russia done everything right? Surely Lithuania's own body temperature should be returning to normal. The fire, the tea, the quilts, Russia was even used himself to shield Lithuania from freezing.

"Are you cold?" He asked.

"No. I'm very warm now, thanks to you."

Russia heaved a sigh of relief and hugged Lithuania. "But you're trembling so much…"

"Am I? I'm sure it's nothing. Are you…?" Lithuania's voice trailed off.

"I'm warm with you."

"Oh. I meant… When are you…?" Russia had rarely seen Lithuania look as worn out as he did then. He rolled onto his back, encouraging Lithuania to use his shoulder as a pillow by cradling him in his arm.

"Close your eyes, Lithuania."

Lithuania looked grim for a second, but closed his eyes and dug his head into Russia's shoulder. In a few minutes his breathing evened and his body relaxed with sleep. At last, Russia relaxed as well. The sight of Lithuania in his arms, warm and safe, filled him with more happiness than he could remember feeling for a long time. Swept up in the emotion, he pressed a kiss against Lithuania's forehead. The nation whimpered but did not wake up.

"My little Lithuania." Russia closed his eyes, matching his breath with Lithuania's.

Bright sunlight woke Russia the next morning. He felt beside him but only found air. A quilt was missing. The fire in the hearth had died during the night.

Lithuania was standing in front of a window, staring out of it as if unaware of everything around him. He held the quilt tightly around him.

Russia walked up behind him and reached out.

"Don't touch me," Lithuania said, his voice as cold as ice.

.

If you originally thought what I wanted you to think, then my mission is accomplished. I am not proud that I'm proud about how well this came out, but I am proud about how well this came out.

RussLiet barely tops RussAme as my favorite Russia pairing, but unfortunately, unlike RussAme, there's no possible happy ending for this couple, and that's what I like about it. I find the inevitable heartbreak poignant.


End file.
